


Blood on his Hands

by Sorbet_Shark



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Anxious Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Blood, Caring Logic | Logan Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Being an Idiot, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders is a Good Friend, Dermatillomania, Don't Read This, Hurt Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders Is A Good Friend, Minor Injuries, Morality | Patton Sanders is a Good Friend, Not Beta Read, Protective Morality | Patton Sanders, picking at skin, self-inflicted minor injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:53:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25497919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorbet_Shark/pseuds/Sorbet_Shark
Summary: Virgil has dermatillomania, and he has for as long as he can remember. He desperately doesn't want his famILY to know, but would they really react as badly as Virgil imagines.I read "It Only Gets Better" by jowritesthings and I was like, 'hey, I do that' so I wrote this based on my own experiencesmind the tags, there's blood and discussion of minor injuries, but like detailed
Relationships: Platonic LAMP
Comments: 10
Kudos: 74





	Blood on his Hands

Virgil is thankful for his bangs. While clothes and foundation can cover the scabs, cuts, and scrapes over the rest of his body, the bumpiness of the irritations and acne on his forehead wouldn’t completely go away. He lives around super observant people. They would notice the texture of his forehead. Then they might tell him not to cover up the acne, which would reveal the scabs, which would reveal how awful he is for his habit. Sure, covering the acne and cuts with bangs makes the acne worse, which in turn makes the skin picking worse, but it’s better to hide it.

Of course, there have been some close calls, and some sides (mainly Janus but Janus probably doesn’t care) have already pieced it together. In middle school, the blemish on Virgil’s temple became a scrape. It didn’t even hurt, which was probably not for the best because Virgil didn’t notice when he’d touched it. He walked around the mind palace for around an hour, satisfied that he was properly intimidating Patton into listening to him until Janus murmured in his ear that there was a stream of dried blood going from the scrape to his hairline.  _ It wasn’t even that much _ , Virgil remembers thinking to himself after running to the bathroom. It took up a space smaller than his pinky fingernail. But it happened at least several more times before the area healed. There wasn’t even a visible mark anymore!

At its worst, Virgil would look down at his hands and find blood under his fingernails and staining his fingertips. Virgil got real good at dipping a finger in his spit and doing damage control, staunching the bleeding and dispersing the blood before anyone could see. Virgil never wanted the others to know about his habit, it would only make it harder to interact with them. And though it never went away, Virgil got better at not picking at his skin. Sure, he scratched at itchy patches, pulled and tugged at bumps, blemishes, and pimples, and reopened scabs before they could heal. Sure, Virgil’s skin and face are littered with fading scars. And, sure, any clothes that aren’t black end up with small bloodstains. So what? Virgil doesn’t mind it, it’s only another step at the moment to hide the remnants of his treacherous habit. 

Plus, Virgil likes blood. He likes popping a finger in his mouth and tasting a hint of copper. He likes the feeling of pulling off a scab with his fingernails. He knows it’s weird, and he doesn’t even notice it half the time, but it’s not a habit he can break. Even with all the fidget toys, he could want, his hands go to blemishes and scratch. Short stubby nails never deter him. Virgil just needs to hope that the others wouldn’t figure out, which is getting harder now that he is spending more time out of his room.

Virgil is pulled out of his thoughts by the prick of a needle, causing him to jump. He and Patton had been doing arts and crafts together recently, and Virgil found himself accidentally adding to his collection of minor wounds. Yesterday it was a blister from a hot glue machine, which Patton had carefully cleaned and bandaged. Virgil had popped it, pulling off the loose skin, the previous night. Today it was sewing stuffed animals. Virgil yanks the needle out of his palm, noting the drop of blood welling up under the base of his pinky finger. Without thinking, he presses his thumb on the cut but realizes that it isn’t enough as he has only spread the blood on his palm.

“Oh no, Virgil, are you alright?” Patton looks a little pale, Virgil knows that Patton saw everything.

“Yeah, just a little cut! No problems!” Virgil laughs awkwardly. He knows that the other sides go for a band-aid if- and that is a very rare if- they ever get a cut that draws blood. While Virgil knows that his reaction to his blood doesn’t instantly reveal his secret, he understands that it is a clue that could lead them to discover it on their own.

“Let me clean it up for you!” Patton exclaims, going to get medical supplies before Virgil can protest. 

Patton returns with the first aid kit. “You know you don’t have to do this” Virgil grumbles.

“But I want to,” Patton squeezes Virgil’s hand after the band-aid is applied. “It’s important to care for all injuries, even if they’re small. I think they’ll heal quicker and won’t scar, but you’d need to check that with Logan.”

_ Ha, bit late for that _ , Virgil snarks in his mind before saying meekly: “You’re right, I’ll make sure to.”

“Can I check up on that hot glue gun burn? It looked painful,” Patton says, still in doctor mode.

“I think it’s fine, no need to bother it, right?” Virgil mumbles nervously.

Patton frowns. “If you say so, just make sure you clean it up well.”

Virgil nods, excusing himself, and going to his room as quickly as possible. When he’s in his room, he pulls down his sleeve and tears off the band-aid covering the- well, it isn’t a blister anymore. It looks more like a sore, sticky to the touch. Virgil scrapes the surface with his index finger’s fingernail, aiming to get off the black fibers from his hoodie, but also scraping the cut. A thin film that reminds Virgil of a wet layer of skin comes off, leaving more clear liquid to bead up over its surface. Virgil winces, he didn’t want that to happen. He dabs a q-tip soaked in rubbing alcohol, trying to ignore the stinging, moving quickly to slap a bandaid over the cut. 

Moving that out of his mind, Virgil shifts his focus to scrolling through Tumblr, barely acknowledging the way that his fingers brush over his scalp, searching for a scab that he can't.

***

When Virgil wakes up the next day, he goes about his morning routine as per normal, examining his face in the mirror. However, when his fingers ghost over his face, poking, prodding, and picking at imperfections, he notices a new spot under his nose. And this spot hurts. Memories of popping painful pimples flood Virgil’s mind, and he goes about trying to pop it. First, he puts one finger to one side and another to the other, pushing hard. When that doesn’t work, he props one elbow on the faucet of the sink, going at the pimple from a different angle. Eventually, Virgil gives up. He has nothing but frustration and a layer of skin missing on the painful patch, clear liquid already seeping off of the damaged skin. Virgil wants to stomp his feet and break something but is content to scowl at his reflection in the mirror. He needs to go downstairs! Anything he puts on the skin wouldn’t stay, and a band-aid would just bulk up and call attention to the area.

But maybe it wouldn’t be too bad if they saw it. Maybe they would be able to help him, pointing out when his treacherous hands were ghosting over his skin, looking for imperfections. Maybe they could help him try what he never thought of before, being too afraid to google coping strategies. The worst that could happen is alienation. Though that was something he could deal with. Sure, it would hurt more now that he knew what it was like to be accepted and loved, but he could manage. Maybe they wouldn’t even notice. 

By the time he concluded to just go downstairs and hope for the best, he had already tugged at the cuticles of his fingers, noticing that he had a strip of skin loose on his pointer finger. He tugs on it without thinking, feeling satisfied when it pulls back and then off, even though there is a dot of blood by the nail. If he doesn’t go downstairs now, he’ll only have more time to pick at more skin.  _ Ok, _ he decides, pushing open his bathroom door and then his bedroom door,  _ I’m off _ .

***

Turns out that when Virgil thinks that everyone is looking at him, he gets nervous. And when he gets nervous, his hands find themselves scratching at his arms. One above the other, his left arm scratches his right underarm while his right arm scratches the top of his forearm. Logan passes a bowl of fruit salad, and Virgil goes to accept it, before realizing that his not-very-bloody finger is visible to Logan. Logan! The most observant side in the whole mind!

“Virgil, I do not know if you are aware, but you appear to be bleeding in multiple places on your hands,” Logan looks concerned.  _ Imagine how that concern will morph to annoyance if you tell him _ , the mean parts of Virgil taunt him.

“Well, oh, huh, that’s… weird…” Virgil practically squeaks.

At this point, Roman and Patton are looking at him. Virgil barely realizes that his other hand, resting on his lap, has started picking at its cuticle. “I do not believe that we need Janus here to say that that statement is dishonest. Am I accurate in presuming that you have either caused or irritated all of the minor abrasions on your hand?”

Virgil curses himself, the band-aid on the burn had fallen off and he had forgotten to replace it. Instead of responding, he looks down, shame and tears filling his eyes.

“Ah, it would make sense that the embodiment of anxiety would suffer from dermatillomania.”

Virgil frowns, looking at Logan. Patton speaks first. “Derma what? Also, should I get the first aid kit?”

“Dermatillomania,” Logan says in a cool and clinical voice, though Virgil can see a caring warmth in his eyes. “A condition characterized by chronic picking of the skin. It is often preceded by stress or tension and followed by relief, and it can be a subconscious response. It causes lesions in the skin and disruptions to the life of the sufferer. And, yes, Patton, you can get the first aid kit.”

Patton goes off, and Virgil looks up to see Logan and Roman’s reactions. Neither looks upset or disgusted, which is a good sign. “I’m guessing that’s what happened to, you know, under your nose?” Roman chimes in.

Virgil nods. His head is reeling, the idea that his habit is an actual problem and not a personal failing is strange, but it feels good. But, what if Virgil is misinterpreting things. “So… I’m not a screw-up?”

Roman chortles, causing both Logan and Virgil to glare at him. “No, wait, I’m not saying- Ok, that was mean. But, I just meant that, wow, Virgil, you’re blaming yourself for a chronic disorder which literally doesn’t hurt anyone but you. I don’t know, it just feels… ironic?”

“You are using the word correctly, but you are making Virgil uncomfortable. Virgil, could you put your hands on the table? We can work on coping mechanisms, but for now, let’s just keep your hands out of the way, ok?”

Virgil nods and lays his hands on either side of his plate as Roman profusely apologizes. “It’s whatever, Princey, I kind of expected that everyone would recoil in disgust or whatever, so your… amusement… is a nice change of pace.”

“Sorry,” Roman mumbles again.

“Stop apologizing, you’re ok!” Virgil snaps.

“Ok, Virgil,” Logan cuts in before Roman can delve into an endless cycle of apologies. “Have you tried any coping mechanisms to try and avoid damaging your skin?”

“Fidget toys,” Virgil blurts out. “I don’t think it helped, just… pushed it off until later.”   
  


“Ok, we can work with this.” Logan muses. “I need to do more research, but, by dinner tonight, I can have a list of different strategies that we can use.”

“Ok, I have the first aid kit, let’s put a bandaid on all the spots you struggle with for now, ok?” Patton sits down next to Virgil, wincing when he sees the angry-looking scab from the hot glue gun burn.

“That is a great idea. As well as that, can the two of you point out and stop when Virgil picks at a scab?” Roman and Patton nod. “That is satisfactory. I am heading to my room to do some research, the three of you can go about your days.”   
  


As Logan sets off, Roman and Patton share a look. “Pillow fort?”

“Pillow fort!”

***

The three find themselves in the living room, Patton and Roman alternating on who collects the blankets and pillows. Neither of them leaves Virgil alone, which puts Virgil on edge, but he appreciates that the two of them want to help so much. For every minute that passes, Virgil becomes more sure that he won’t be ridiculed and alienated by his habit. It feels weird that his little habit has a name.

“Virg!” Patton shouts, letting a pillow slip down and a blanket fall. 

Virgil looks at his arm where his fingers are stuck to a half-peeled bandaid. Quickly, he presses the bandaid back and raises his hands. “Oh, thanks, Pat,”

“No problem,” Patton grins widely. “Want to hold this blanket while I prop up the pillow?”

Virgil nods, walking over and grabbing the blanket corner, holding it over Patton’s head, which is easier since Patton is kneeling on the ground, messing around with the pillow. As they work, Roman drops an armful of blankets and pillows on the ground.

“This is everything, I think.” Roman clasps his hands together. “Also, I ran into Janus and he gave some advice.” Virgil spins around, dropping the blanket and covering Patton in the process. Patton sputters, surprised. “Nothing bad, he just gave me these gloves and an idea. Weighted blanket snuggie. He seemed to think that that could work.”

Virgil slips on the black pair of gloves that Janus probably hadn’t worn in years. Despite a seam running down the wrist and fingers, they are very comfortable. Roman snaps, causing a strange bulky snuggie to appear at Virgil’s feet. “Thanks, Princey.” Virgil looks over Roman’s shoulder. “And thanks I guess, snake-man!”

There is no reply, and Virgil is happy that Janus isn’t watching him. He picks up the snuggie, struggling to slide into it. His hands go through holes, and he can’t access his body or reach his face. “This should help, I think.”

“Well, I am glad,” Roman surveys his handiwork. “Though you should take off the gloves, I’ve never seen tenser hands.”

Virgil gratefully slides his hands out of the gloves, already noticing angry red splotches on his hands from the offending seams.

“I could try to whip up some seamless gloves if you’d like,” Roman offers.

Virgil nods. “Yeah, that would be nice. Thanks, both of you.”

“No problemo, my Chemically Imbalanced Romance,” Roman announces loudly as Patton quietly says: “Happy to help, kiddo.”

They work in silence as they finish off the fort.

***

By the time Logan returns downstairs, sure that he’s missed dinner, the three are curled up in the fort, fast asleep. Or, he thought they were all asleep.

“Hey L,” Virgil yawns, wriggling out of Roman and Patton’s bear hugs. “How was stuff?”

“My research session was enlightening,” The satisfaction of gaining useful knowledge shines on Logan’s face. “I have a lot of different coping mechanisms that we can try.”

  
  
“Oh, that’s good,” Virgil grins lopsidedly. “I really appreciate this. You didn’t have to but you and everyone jumped to help me. I mean, it’s a bad habit. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful but we’re derailing everything for me because I’m overreacting.”   
  


Logan frowns. “No, that’s not true. It isn’t just a ‘bad habit’, it’s a destructive compulsion that is causing you distress. And we will do what we can to help you because that is what we do. We help each other when we need it. You can ask for help if you need it. We are more than happy to help.”

“I, wow,” Virgil pauses. “Thank you, I really appreciate that, L.”

“No problems. Would you like to go over some of the coping mechanisms I have found?”

Virgil nods and the two start talking. Sure, Virgil knows that his dermatillomania won’t go away overnight. It will take a lot of work on his part, but it's easier knowing that his famILY will be there to help him keep on track.

**Author's Note:**

> I thought that this would be fun and helpful to write, but it actually made me feel more itchy and conscious of my skin
> 
> so that's something
> 
> lol
> 
> also, I accidentally made Patton annoying by being like intense about the first aid kit, sorry
> 
> this is a mess I'm so sorry


End file.
